Have you ever wondered what really happens to Santa Claus letters? In Detroit and Sarasota some children’s letters are diverted and reviewed by Nick Archer, a religiously obsessed, narcissist. Nick responds, leaving a trail of devastation in the two cities.
In Detroit, co-ed partners and wise-cracking lovers, detectives Jaq McSween and David Maxwell, team up with Sarasota detectives Abel Mendoza and his partner, Rabbit, to find this daunting killer.
When Jaq’s friend, the lovely nurse, Rita Rose, takes a chance on love again, she gets caught in Nick’s web. Working with the ME, she joins in, adding her perspective when events take a sinister turn.
Can this diverse team of characters pool their insights, barbs, and taste for bad food to save Rita when she discovers the final clues or will she become the next victim?

Rosemarie Aquilina is the mother of five children. Elected as a 30th Circuit Court Judge serving in the General Trial Division, after having served as a 55th District Court Judge in Mason, Michigan, she takes pride in public serve.
In 1986, Judge Aquilina became the first female JAG Officer in the history of the Michigan Army National Guard, she retired in 2006 with twenty years Honorable Service. She is an adjunct law professor at both Western Michigan University—Thomas M. Cooley Law School and Michigan State University College of Law and has earned teaching awards at both institutions. Judge Aquilina is the former owner of Aquilina Law Firm, PLC, and former host of a syndicated radio talk show called Ask the Family Lawyer.

“I woke up with clarity: answer lies with children.”
Jaq unsnapped her seatbelt. David pulled into the authorized personnel parking
spot at the Wayne County Medical Examiner’s Office. “Need evidence.” David
pulled the keys from the ignition and grabbed his coffee. Jaq’s brown eyes glistened into
hazel, then gold; David had to look away or become hypnotized. “I knew hot Krispy Kremes would entice you out of bed.”

Jaq’s lips glistened with glaze. “Be nice and I’ll
share.”

David leaned in and kissed her, then grabbed a donut
from the open box on Jaq’s lap. “We’re either going in or making out in the
parking lot.”

Jaq batted her lashes, giggled and blushed as she
jumped out of the Explorer with the boxes.

“Perp’s ability to get in and out makes me think
military or police training. Special Forces. Kills me to think he could be one
of our own.”

They crossed the parking garage, treaded through the
entrance and down a long hallway with multi-colored arrows at every
intersection to the elevator. Jaq frowned. “Double Cross Killer’s a
thrill-seeker—greater danger, higher delight.”

“Vics aren’t killed at work, in a parking lot, or
while jogging, where they’re easy targets. It’s at home, where their family
lives.” David pushed the elevator Down button. It opened almost immediately,
and they stepped in.

“Victim’s habits, friends, business
associates—everything has to be checked. I’ve asked the Chief to assign
additional officers to help with the interviews,” Jaq said.

Jaq stared at David as the elevator hummed. David was
mindlessly banging the already-lit Garden-level button. The elevator bell rang.
Jaq turned toward the door. “We know there’s some part of serial killers that
kill because they want to get caught. Double Cross Killer might have a buried
conscience emerging, longing to be stopped.”

The door opened, they stepped out and headed down
another long corridor.

“Assuming he poses each victim to send us a message.”
When they reached Dr. Towers’ suite of offices, David edged in front of Jaq and
forced her to face him.

Jaq hesitated. “You okay, Big Fella?”

David continued. “At this point we haven’t stopped him
and now the Double Cross Killer is daring us. He kills, arranges, cleans, and
leaves without worry.”

Jaq’s Red-Alert stance softened as she nodded. “We’re
on the trail of a black cat in a fur factory.”

“Maybe Doc has our feline.” David pushed the heavy
door open.

They approached Dr. Towers’ office through rows of
sterile chrome counters. David called out, seeing him sitting behind a desk of
organized chaos with layers of vials, slides, and books. “Hey, Doc, you feeling
all right? You’re definitely a pale African today.”

“Concern noted.” Dr. Towers didn’t look up. “Rita and
I have been here since the wee hours of the morning. Finished the primary
autopsy on your latest. Awaiting labs. She assisted working the cross aspect
backward to include the priors.”

“You’re worse than us.” Jaq shook her head. “No break
since we left you.”

Interrupting what David thought might be the beginning
of an interrogation of Dr. Towers, David ignored Jaq. “Trade your findings—” he
intentionally elevated his voice, “for warm Krispy Kremes and fresh hot
coffee?”

“Earned at least that.” Dr. Towers stood up behind his
desk. “Go to the conference room.”

Rita fell in behind them and put a hand delightedly to
her neck at the sight of the donuts. She laughed. “Double yoga workout this
week, Jaq?”

Dr. Towers followed the line into the conference room.
He tossed a stack of plates and napkins into the center next to the open donut
box and coffee cups, then sat at the head of the table and began. “No unusual
or unmatched fibers. Double Cross Killer made sure his victim was dead, he
crushed the windpipe, slashed the wrists, tossed in the cords, and cleaned the
scene, but there is more to the story.”